Lurking In The Dark Book 1

 Stella looked at her reflection in the mirror for the millionth time and scoffed. She did not like what she was seeing. TO HELL WITH THAT, she thought to herself. She never liked her reflection anyway. She was doing this because her therapist had said she would increase her pay per session if she did not 'loosen up'.

"Going out would help a lot, Stella," Clara had said as she adjusted her glasses, more because she was fond of doing so than because it was necessary. "Maybe better than regular sessions." She looked down at her book and wrote something before sharply looking up and peeking above her glasses. "No layers of makeup." she said.

"Right."

"I'm sorry, did you say something?"

"Me? No!" Stella denied. As long as she could wear anything she liked, she was totally Ok with the no-makeup thing.

But as if reading her thoughts, "And dress like a LADY, Stella."

WHAT?

"You heard that right. You are not, for whatever reason, to wear shorts, three-quarters, baggy joggers, gloves, especially not those things you call pop socks and any other thing that is... un-lady-like. Dress like a normal lady going on a date."

What?! "I'm not a normal lady." Stella had wanted to retort but decided against it. That would have meant extra therapy time that she was not in the mood for. Un-lady-like, was that even a word?

"I don't care about the number of WHATs you say."

She did not realize she had said that out loud.

"Yes, you did," Clara responded

Stella had glared in response, "Did I say that too out loud or you're just being an annoying psychic?"

Clara had smirked and stood up from her chair to return a case file. Stella's. "Are we clear?" She had asked, ignoring the glare she got earlier.

No. "Crystal." She had replied instead.

And here she was, dressed as and successfully looking like a doll gone wrong. But what could possibly go wrong, right? With that, she picked her clutch purse and left the house.

* * *

Motun blinked at the man facing her and yawned. He was saying something about a time and something- something that she was far from hearing. The scene was swarmed with people- nosy reporters who found it difficult to stay off the yellow tapes, neighbourhood busybodies who 'heard and came' and every other person going back and forth. She yawned again, loudly this time: loud enough to let everyone know that she was not finding it funny or nice being called so early by her Chief on a cold morning to attend to a case. Very normal of Dorathy.

Nobody paid attention to her yawning, though. Telling her that this, whatever it was, was more important than anyone's love for a nice sleep. Very normal of her co-workers too.

What was abnormal, she thought, looking around, was the crime scene itself. Although the property on which the body was placed had been abandoned for a long time now, people passed every route in G.R.A. Ikeja almost every time of the day. It had to take a lot of courage- and shamelessness- to kill someone here, unless of course, the actual crime took place somewhere else. Besides, the people close to the area had to have a lot going on with them if they had not heard any cry.

Another abnormal- but this time, annoying- thing was the rude lateness or absence of whoever Dorathy had chosen to be her partner. J.K., her partner was away on leave and since this happened in her absence, she had to work with another partner and she knew that Dorathy was going to surprise her. She had a feeling she might not like the surprise. All she could do was wait and see.

Well, more than enough time to do her 'thing' without anyone interrupting her thoughts. She did not feel guilty at all. Since her partner did not deem it fit to notify her of his or her lateness of absence, she was going to carry on without him or her. She crossed the tapes, moved closer to the body wrapped in a white cloth and wore her gloves.

"Estimated time of the death?" She asked.

"About six hours ago." A guy who she recognized to be from Forensics replied.

To confirm her speculations, she asked, "How long has the body been lying here?"

"About three hours."

Sounds about right. She uncovered the body. "Is this cloth ours?"

"No"

The body was a female's. About five-foot-six tall. The skin of the face, neck, upper and lower limbs, chest and belly were scraped off.

"Judging by the difference in colours, the scraping was done in sections. It also looks sloppy and messy. This was not done by a professional." Someone else said behind Motun- more like breathed on her neck.

She could not agree less. "No, it was not." She looked at the scars again. "He had to be done with one section before moving to the next. "It looks messy but he was not in a hur-" Who was she responding to by the way? And why did her heart miss a beat? She raised her head. Right. No wonder.

"James Maduka reporting for duty, ma'am." James gave a mock salute and winked.

Well, of course, who else had the guts to report late for duty but James Maduka? Nice one, Dorathy, nice one. She did not disappoint and had given her just the perfect person she did not want, not just because he was always late, but for other reasons. Other reasons that had to do with her sanity. Other reasons that had to do with her heart and why it skipped a beat earlier.

"Most of us don't want to be here too, James. I'm pretty sure nobody else loves playing call of duty at 5:30am on a chilly Lagos morning let alone stay here a minute longer. The best we can do is wrap things up ASAP and your lateness did not help doing that." With that Motun bent to continue examining the body. "And although I see no reason you should come late, a little heads-up would have at least shown that you are sorry."

"I'm sorry," James started.

YEAH, RIGHT. And here comes the excuse.

"Cassie had an episode just when I was about to leave the house. I had to make sure she was fine before leaving."

"There we have it, same old excuse," Motun wanted to say but thought better of it. There was no need adding to the reasons people called her 'the witch'. James indeed had a five-year-old asthmatic daughter that everyone knew of because he would not stop using her as an excuse for his regular incompetence. Although, Motun had a feeling it was not as bad as James always made it out to be, it was the cold season and poor Cassie was bound to have frequent attacks. But James always used Cassie's attacks even during summer, forgetting the fact that most of them knew that Cassie's mum was a full-time baby mama.

Motun found it annoying that people either forgot that fact or chose to ignore it because James' Dad was a higher-up and he would eventually be let off the hook even if brows were raised.

"That I'm here this morning does not mean I do not have my own stuff to attend to. Unlike you, James, I am a mother. Big difference. I don't wake up, freshen up and buzz off without prepping my kids. And I definitely do not have a stay-at-home husband." All these were the words Motun wanted to lash out but "I'm sorry about Cassie" was all she said. She knew if she began to lash out, she would say things from her emotions that she didn't want to say. She didn't want to appear vulnerable to James, not after what happened between them. Not after her resolve to be strong.

"Thanks."

"Like I was saying, the killer was not in a hurry to scrape the skin. Whatever he used was sharp enough to scrape the top layer but meticulously, he almost did not damage the inner layer at all. The question is why scrape the skin?"

"And what finally killed the victim? The scraping definitely was not the cause of death."

Motun looked at James. He definitely had not lost his touch. Probably another reason he was always pardoned.

"No, it wasn't," she replied, standing up.

"I need this body ID'ed. Get forensics to do a proper autopsy. I want answers in 24 hours. Nobody crosses these tapes unless I say so." Motun reeled out commands as the already silent scene became filled with activities again.

Turning to James, she said, "I need a profile."

"On it."

Motun took a final sweep of the scene with her eyes, wondering why someone cruel enough to commit murder would also be considerate enough to properly take care of his victim's body.

* * *